


Creeping with Other People

by Suzthesnooze



Category: Beetlejuice (Cartoon 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Puns, Body Horror, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Horror, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Pining, Possession, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29553708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzthesnooze/pseuds/Suzthesnooze
Summary: When Beetlejuice discovers Lydia's first date might have bad intentions, he decides to hijack the pesky pubescent jerk to give Lydia the best first date a girl could ask for and teach the little punk a lesson all in one evening.But how does one even impress a strange and unusual girl like Lydia Deetz? And how to keep her from finding him out?
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz, Lydia Deetz & Original Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

Three o’clock had come and gone with no incantation from one Lydia Deetz. Usually incredibly punctual, especially to weekly rituals with her beloved Ghost with the Most, her absence had not gone unnoticed in the Roadhouse.

So when the anxious and impatient poltergeist pulled himself through the void to arrive in a reflection nearest his gracious mortal host, he was surprised to find that instead of finding her dead, ill, or stricken with a sudden madness ( the only reasons that might delay her from their incredibly important plans, he rationalized) Beetlejuice found Lydia Deetz, still in her school uniform, crawling on hands and knees around the dusty backstage of Ms. Shannon’s auditorium.

The flustered goth tugged at the hem of a curtain in the dimly lit space, too focused on her task to notice the striped ghoul reflected in a nearby darkened spotlight. Leaning through the glass, the entity coughed loudly and smirked as she flinched.

“HEY LYDS--”

Lydia gasped, very nearly leaping to her feet. She found him in an instant and spun the lamp’s face towards her and spoke in a hush,“Sssh, Beej, keep it down!”

“What’s up? Or, rather, what’s down? School’s out, we’re supposed to be getting ready for movie night!” he asked, only marginally quieter, “Lose a contact? An eye? A limb? Or are ya just huntin’ for lunch?” Beetlejuice’s eyes immediately scanned the dark stage floor he could see through the glossy lens for anything crawly.

“Sort of… one sec.” Lydia stepped back, took a deep breath, and whispered the words, “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.”

Strange, Beetlejuice mused. Lydia rarely summoned him so casually unless stakes were high. A soft sound drifted to his ear. Leaning around the heavy fire curtain he spotted Ms. Shannon out on the well lit apron of the stage, addressing a fairly large audience.

“--select few girls have been asked to share their senior research projects as practice for a potential scholarship opportunity. And, of course, I’d be remiss not to thank Mr. Hargrave and his own applicants from our brother school, the Hargrave Academy for Boys, to the scholarship for coming to show their support. It is a great honor and pleasure to have such a talented and exemplary group of young men showing their support for their co-eds. I think I speak for the entire student body when I say it’s encouraging to know--”

Well, she’d be at it for a little while longer.

“Sheesh, does old Shannon ever run outta hot air?”

“Beej, I could use a little light over here." Lydia was back to crawling around the floor, groping gently along for something. He obliged immediately, flicking his thumb like a lighter to produce a short flame.

“Care to ‘enlighten’ me on the situation, babes?” The deeply unamused look he received over her shoulder was reward enough. "Hunting for dust bunnies to calm yer nerves?"

“I’m presenting my entomology project. I might be able to win a scholarship.” Lydia brushed her bangs out of her face and sat up on her knees with a loud huff, “But my star specimen’s crawled off.”

“Endo... entro… ain’t that the thing where you drink a jug of somethin’ and they shove a tube up--”

“My bugs, Beetlejuice.” Lydia rolled her eyes, dusting herself as she stood up with a frustrated sigh, “And my rehabilitated goliath bird-eater, Homer, is missing from his tank! The whole presentation is about his habits and adaptations compared with other spiders. I swear, he was just here. I walked him straight from my locker! What if he’s in the hall!? Maybe I still have time--oh boy.” She braced her hands on her waist, breathing hard.

“Kid, hey,” A little ice bag popped onto her forehead, “Chill. We’ll find yer creepy crawly no sweat. There’s still plenty of time as long as ol’ Shannon’s got them snoring out there.”

"And without further delay," Ms Shannon’s chipper voice rose suddenly, obviously giving cue, “I’m happy to introduce Lydia Deetz on the topic of--… Oh, dear…”

“I can’t go out there without my Homer! What am I gonna do?”

Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and appeared on her shoulder as a black and white striped tarantula, easily the size of a baseball mitt, with one of his two large fangs missing.

“No.” Lydia started. “No, no way. We’ve been here before. You know how you get when you’re around my collection.”

“Well, if ya didn’t feed ‘em so much they wouldn’t look so appetizing.”

“Beej!”

“Babes!” he urged, “Come on! I’m the creepiest, crawliest understudy you’re gonna find last minute.”

Lydia looked frantically between the light beyond the curtain, then to her cart of various tanks and displays.

“Miss Deetz?” called Ms. Shannon with her entire thimble-full of patience.

Lydia grabbed the gnarly arachnid off her shoulder and urged sternly, “No funny business?”

“If I knew where my heart was in this thing? I’d be crossin’ it.”

“You technically have two.”

“No shit?” the spider asked, genuinely. “I guess it’ll have to be a double-cross.”

Lydia smirked, “Better not be. Okay, then.” She plopped him right back on her shoulder and headed for the stage, pushing the large cart in front of her. Peaceful Pine’s resident goth girl walked out to astonished gasps and frightened whispers.

Lydia gently pulled Beetlejuice off of her shoulder and displayed him out in her cupped palms for the audience to see. Ms. Shannon’s students recoiled loudly while the section full of Mr. Hargrave’s boys leaned forward and jeered to each other ‘oh, wicked’ ‘that’s nasty’ ‘look at it’s fangs!’ before they were swiftly silenced by their stern headmaster, the greying and positively vulturesque Mr. Hargrave.

“Courage, lads.”

“This is _Theraphosa blondi_ , otherwise known as the goliath bird-eater tarantula. He’s native to northern South America.” Beetlejuice rose up on his hairy legs and extended the front two wide, posing menacingly for his stunned and startled audience. Lydia grinned, relishing the anxiety her peers displayed at her approach towards the edge of the stage. “Weighing six ounces fully grown and thirteen centimeters spread out, he is one of the largest spiders on the planet and a deadly efficient hunter. Not only that, he's incredibly intelligent. His name is Homer.”

“Gosh! Is he also your boyfriend, Lydia Deetz?” called a familiar valley girl accent, sending both sides of the auditorium into laughter. “Like, why don’t you give him a big kiss?”

Lydia cast Claire Brewster a glare. The spider in her hands struck a defensive stance, squatted and tense.

“Oh, I wouldn’t give the goliath bird-eater tarantula a kiss,” Lydia shot back, “the bite of a goliath bird-eater, while it might not kill you, has been compared to driving a dull, rusted nail straight through your hand.”

“My word!” scoffed her headmistress, seated in the front row and looking as though she’d rather be anywhere else.

“But Homer here might not be doing a lot of defensive biting--”

“Not yet, bet get me close enough--” Beetlejuice went quiet as Lydia gave him a light shake and coughed loudly.

“Ahem, excuse me! Homer is missing one of his hooked fangs. Unable to subdue and envenomate his prey, a spider like Homer would surely starve. Right?”

The audience in her mirror had responded with more enthusiasm. She received only a low, well timed razz from the joint schools. Again, she waited for their laughter to subside.

Fifteen minutes on Fake Homer’s rehabilitation and developmental progress later, Lydia left the stage with only a dull round of applause behind her.

Once out in the hall, Lydia leaned against the brick and breathed a sigh of relief. Beetlejuice scuttled up her arm, looking quite smugly up for some recognition. She leaned her cheek down to press against the hairy spider.

“Bravo, sir. Bravo bravo!” Lydia laughed, “an excellent performance Homer would be so proud, wherever he is.”

“No, no, please, I didn’t do it for m’self. I did it for arachnids everywhere. Too kind, truly.” Beetlejuice puffed, brimming with pride. “Now, let’s blow this joint and--”

The door behind Lydia opened from the stage and out sauntered Claire, along with a little gaggle of groupies. 

“Ugh, you still have that disgusting thing on your shoulder? Major gross, Lydia.” she scoffed.

A bastion of patience though she was, the dark haired girl found herself growing more vexed by the minute. “Don’t you have a presentation to give, Claire?” She motioned to the boys on her proverbial leash. “Or have you been too busy with your  _ extracurricular activities _ to prepare anything?”

One boy laughed and despite herself, Lydia felt a little splash of pride. Claire Brewster’s well manicured brow twitched. “Oh puh lease! Like I need some penny and dime scholarship to get into a good school. I was just here to watch the freak sing and dance and you didn't disappoint.”

“She’s askin’ for it.” Beetlejuice snarled from behind her curtain of hair, but Lydia shrugged her shoulder lightly to warn against it. 

“Not worth it, Beej.” Lydia breathed, forcing a smile.

“Besides,” Claire grinned, taking Lydia’s lack of response as a victory, “What would you know about ‘extracurricular activities’, Deetz? From what I hear, you only fool around with spiders, creepy old janitors, and your dog-faced little friends.”

“OK, well, it's been fun, Claire.” Lydia spun on her heels to take her leave, allowing some level of pettiness to escape as she recited barely above a breath, _“but thine face is not worth sunburning._ ”

“Oh, Lydia?” a voice sing-songed from the stage door. Lydia turned and drained to pale white as she spotted Claire, gripping her specimen cart. “Don’t forget your little entourage.”

“Claire wait, don’t--!!!”

The blonde gave the cart a violent shove down the wheelchair ramp. 

“NO!” 

The blonde and her collective laughed riotously, until one wheel caught and all parties present shrieked as it upturned and capsized the various tanks, sending all manner of creatures scuttling for safety.

Beetlejuice clung for dear afterlife to Lydia’s shoulder as she dropped to her knees, frantically trying to collect the frightened critters as they scattered. They blanketed a narrow hallway. Up the hall, Claire Brewster was doing her best to climb one of the Hargrave boys like a tree to escape from the rapidly encroaching horde.

“Get them off me!” Claire shouted, her groupies scrambling to flee. “They’re in my hair! _My HAIR!”_

“NO! Please, don’t hurt them!” Lydia called out, gently scooping who she could from the floor and placing them all into containers as gently as she could. “They won’t bite you if you just--”

Beetlejuice watched the madness unfold, trying with his unusual number of eyes to focus on any one point in the rapidly unfolding chaos as he was tossed this way and that. He noticed the doors to the auditorium slide a bit as students and staff came to see what all the shrieking was about. Sticking out one spindly little leg, he zapped the fire alarm. The sprinklers sputtered, started, and all parties began their escape through alternate exits.

As soon as the coast seemed clear, Beetlejuice returned to his full form. “Sorry, fellas, I know this _sucks_.”

His head was replaced with a vacuum nozzle. Whipping around the hall in a flash, Beetlejuice collected as many of Lydia’s pets as he could. As soon as he was done -- and with no small amount of willpower -- he opened a hatch on his stomach and let the living contents fall safely back into their travel enclosures.

“There goes my lunch,” Beetlejuice bemoaned, dusting his hands and turning to where Lydia knelt. “You okay kid?”

Lydia, dripping water, hadn’t moved from her spot on the ground. Her expression was unreadable, at first, and Beetlejuice floated near to help her to her feet.

“Babes…?”

He stopped the sprinklers and brushed her dripping bangs out of Lydia’s face. He found her smiling, then cracking up, then sputtering into laughter at the sheer absurdity of her afternoon thus far.

* * *

Lydia peered into the little mirror in her locker, tossing her messy, drying black curls to no avail. No matter. If anything, it made her appear more punky rockstar than the sleek vampire chic she’d been sporting since she was twelve. Her smudgy eye makeup looked better now, she thought, than it had when first applied this morning.  _ Deadly vu. _

“You’re a life-saver, Beej.” Lydia sighed, glancing to where he’d hidden in her locker. He was no bigger than a doll, lounging against her pencil bag and smoking the tiniest cigarette. “Thanks for zapping my poor bugs back home.”

“But of course, my dear.” replied the suddenly posh ghoul, “Now can we talk about the big hairy spider in the room?”

Lydia smirked, reaching in to pluck the tiny cig from his fingers between black-painted nails. “Come on, n ot in my locker. And please, like I’d forget. You have all the snacks for our Friday Fright Fiesta ready to go?”

“Bought and caught! Bagged an’ tagged,” he tugged a long list out of his jacket to study, “along with yer usual human-food stash. Picked our disgustin’ lineup of flicks for the night?”

Since the increase in Lydia’s workload, the pair had had to start creating arrangements to hang out together. They saw each other daily, but actually spending quality time together had become more and more difficult as Lydia grew. Friday night had become a highly anticipated weekly event. They’d take over the roadhouse living room and watch any horror movies they could get their hands on, the more obscure or C-list the better, and snack and laugh the night away until Lydia crawled home and straight into bed sometime in the AM. 

“Of course!” Lydia laughed, leaning into her locker to pull down what books she’d need for the weekend. “Only the cheesiest, goriest, most contrived foreign horror films I could get my hands on. I scoured the local video rentals all week long for them. It’s gonna be--”

“Hey there.”

An unfamiliar voice from behind Lydia’s locker door caused her to yelp and Beetlejuice to frantically scramble for something to hide under. Lydia shut the locker door hard and leaned her back against it. 

Before her stood a tall, slim boy, partially dressed down in a Hargraves uniform with the navy jacket slung over his shoulder. Gelled strands of his neat, blonde highlighted curtain cut hung down nearly to his crisp blue eyes.

Lydia had only ever seen the likes of his on some of Bertha’s boyband posters. 

Or in movies about giant sinking ships. 

“didn't mean to freak you. But I was told this probably belongs to you?" He offered her a styrofoam take out box, an impish smile on his rosy lips. 

Lydia took it hesitantly, but knew about immediately what it was by the weight and shift within the box. She opened the lid carefully to find, “Homer!” 

The large spider had smashed himself into the back corner of the box, legs tucked in and shaking.

“Thank you! Where did you find him?”

“Some of the other kids caught him creeping around the auditorium,” he shrugged, wiping his hand off on his shirt and shuddering, “Crazy presentation, by the way. Especially that epilogue with the sprinklers...”

“You thought so?” Lydia asked, placing Homer’s takeout box carefully into her locker. Beetlejuice scuttled out, observing the box a moment, before he caught sight of the boy.

A boy. Talking to Lydia. 

“Hang on, Lyds! I’ll sa--” The locker door closed as he charged out, crooked fangs at the ready. Peeling his mashed face off the metal door’s surface, Beetlejuice shook himself like a dog and shouted, “Hey! What’s the big idea!?”

Lydia coughed loudly into her fist and beat against the locker with her foot, trying to cover the loud noises from within. 

“Totally. It was a snooze-fest after you, anyway. Most of the guys at our school only ever do stupid crap projects about birdhouses or their grandpa’s World War II memorabilia,” the boy rolled his eyes and feigned blowing his brains out with two fingers. 

Despite herself, Lydia let out a soft laugh.

“So. Do you have a name? Or is it just Spider Girl?”

“Well, it’s Spider Girl by night.” She paused, observing no laugh from the boy, “... that was a joke. Not a very good one, either. Um. I’m Lydia."

"I’m Lucas. Are your presentations always so spirited, Lydia?”

"Oh, you have no idea." Lydia sighed. "Sorry about that, by the way…"

“are you kidding? Bet that old bag Ms. Shannon's blowing her gasket right about now. Did you see the look on her face?” The boy snorted when he laughed. Lydia didn’t find much amusing about insulting her potentially incredibly cross head mistress, but forced a polite smile.

"I’m sure I will, come Monday morning.” She sighed. A thought occurred, suddenly, and caused Lydia to fold her arms defensively over her chest. “Did you need something? Claire's locker is actually down that way, if that’s where--"

"I didn't come to talk to Claire. I wanted to talk to you.” He clicked finger guns at her with a wink, “the dreaded spider giiiirl."

It was feeling less and less like an insult to Lydia and more like… what… Flirting? Was that what flirting was like? She was a bit of a spider girl, wasn’t she? Or, rather, she liked spiders well enough.

“Oh! Well, thank you, that’s…” Lydia tried, but puffed a defeated laugh, “So, what can I help you with?”

"Dinner and a movie."

Lydia choked on spit as she gulped hard, squirmed and tried to recover as gracefully as she could under his daunting gaze, “Wh-What, like a… a…”

“A date. Tonight?" Lucas smirked, motioning to her generally. “I know it’s out of nowhere, but… you’re interesting. Got this whole mysterious thing going on. Totally unique. A rare, choice find,” Lydia felt her cheeks light up under her powdery foundation. “Not a lot of girls around Peaceful Pines like you. You should count yourself lucky.”

"S...Sorry, I don’t--... It’s just... _ Why _ ?" Lydia croaked, trying and failing to comprehend the last few minutes. Who was she and what stupid teen movie had she just stepped in to? Where were all the werewolves and demons? The blood and guts? Why was _her_ gut twisting up in knots every time Lucas smiled?

"It’s cool, I get it. You’re shy. I can dig that, too.” Lydia pursed her lips, trying and failing to read his blue eyes, “You’re pretty when you blush."

"Look, you don’t even know me. We just met.” Lydia’s rationale was failing her as something at the base of her skull screeched about having been called _ ‘pretty _ ’ for the first time in her life there, just a second ago. "I don’t know who put you up to this--”

Lucas only laughed once, exasperated, and motioned around to the lack of other people. “Uh, it’s just us here.”

“We don’t have a single thing in common..."

“More than you think, I bet.” he leaned in close and Lydia leaned away, eyes averted. “For instance, we’re both collectors.”

“Oh! You... study entomology, too?”

Lucas didn’t seem to follow.

“... Bugs?”

“Oh, oh no!” Lucas shuddered again, appeared to have to steady himself against the locker. “No. But I do collect  _ other _ things.”

“Like what?”

“This and that. Another thing we have in common is that we’re both free tonight.”

“Oh, actually i’ve… i’ve got… I’m…” Lydia was suddenly keenly aware of how close the boy was, practically looming over her. “Look, It isn’t that I’m not flattered…”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Lydia puffed an incredulous laugh, an utterly dumbstruck look on her face. “ **_Me?_ ** Scared? That's ridiculous.”

She’d spent her adolescence adventuring in the land beyond the veil. Lydia had felt the hot breath of a sandworm on her heels, waltzed with witches and warlocks, battled scurvy undead pirates with their rusted blades and skeletal claws, faced off against and subsequently made friends with creatures more terrifying than Lovecraft could have dreamed up.

“I’m  _ not  _ scared.” Lydia assured, finally meeting the boy’s gaze. 

“So?” Lucas pushed his hair out of his eyes, drawing in close enough that Lydia could smell his putrid, flowery cologne. “Come on, Spider Girl. Or is the only thing that scares you a date with a guy who thinks you’re cute?”

Beetlejuice floated up and down the locker door, trying to see or hear something. The intense reverb within the confined metal space (along with the shuffling and struggling of Homer within his styrofoam prison) kept all sound outside muffled. “PSSt LYDS what’s going on? Is the coast clear? Speak to me!” 

A loud squeak from behind Beetlejuice made him turn, aggravated.

“Would you keep it down over there-- _**WOAH!”**_

The massive bird-eater had managed to pop the box top and wriggle himself free. The miniaturized Beetlejuice was yanked back as a thick sticky rope of web snagged his suit and began dragging him towards the many-eyed beast’s horrible maw.

“Boy did you pick the wrong bug to bag!” Beetlejuice snarled, but found he couldn’t extend his fingers within the sticky mess of webbing. He kicked frantically, watching as the one-fanged leviathan drooled and chattered for his coming meal.

“Lyds! Help me! I’m gonna be lunch for my lunch!” He braced his boots up against the spider’s mandibles, holding it back with all of his strength. “Just gotta…”

Beetlejuice managed to spring one red-tipped claw free and grinned menacingly at the tarantula. “Alright, fun’s over. Time to put you in your place.”

Beetlejuice zapped himself up to normal size, broke out of the spider’s webbing and snatched Homer up in one fist. With no preamble, the ghoul crammed the giant thing into his mouth and crunched, smacked, and swallowed the struggling thing down his gullet. His gut churned at the angry invader and he beat against his chest.

“Be still, my stomach; thou hast known worse than Homer.”

The locker around him groaned with effort until it could hold no more and the door finally gave under the pressure. Beetlejuice spilled out onto the hallway floor and morphed into Bettyjuice as he sprung back to his feet.

“Where is he? What happened? What did he do to ya?” Betty posed and flailed her fists about, ready and willing to maim the teen boy if need be.

“Easy, cadet Betty. He’s gone.” Lydia assured, collecting the confines of her locker from the floor around their feet.

“What’s the big idea?!”

“Sorry about that. You're never going to guess--" Lydia grabbed the open, empty takeout box and shook it. “BJ! You let Homer escape again? I just got him back!”

“Right. Escape. Uh, sorry Lyds.” he gulped hard, feeling the burn of ingesting Homer whole. “I’m sure he’ll… uh… turn up. Maybe he’s off on an “ODD”yssey? Heh.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, putting her things back into her locker. She was quiet… too quiet, Beetlejuice decided. He cleared his throat. 

“You were sayin’?”

“Huh?”

“The boy! What happened out here with the _boy_?!”

Lydia said something under her breath, muffled too by the shuffling of books and papers. Beetlejuice leaned in and cupped one pointed ear. 

"S'cuse me come again?”

“I said…” Lydia looked around before muttering between clenched teeth, "I’ve got a date,” Lydia shut her locker and took off down the hall as fast of a walk as she could manage.

Beetlejuice stared, dull and unblinking. He removed his head and gave it a shake as all manner of junk came tumbling out of his ear onto the floor. The bedpan was the last to hit the tiles with a loud “CLANG.’

“I don’t think I heard that right--”

“I was just asked out on a date.”

“Date…” Beetlejuice rolled the word over, brain clearly blasting on all cylinders until something sparked and ignited behind his yellow eyes. “DATE?! Like a Date date? With a boy? What’s his name? Who is he? Where’s he live?  _ How DARE he? _ He’s not one of those snot nosed little creeps following Claire around today, right?"

Lydia sighed, rounding a corner of lockers. “Keep your voice down...”

“CREEP CREEP CREEP!” Betty squawked, drawing a bit of attention before other girls getting ready to go home politely dipped their heads and went on their way. It was always better to avoid Betty, if possible. “You're not thinking of actually going, are ya? Because this stinks, babe, and not in a way I like!”

“Beetlejuice, you can’t judge somebody based on who they hang around with. Besides, he brought Homer back, didn’t he?” Lydia chastised, hitting the front door of the school and down the steps with the ghoulish Betty right on her heels. 

“When is this date?”

“Tonight.”

“TONIGHT!? BUT LYDS! What about Friday Fright Fiesta? It's your week to pick the flicks and I don’t think the snacks are completely all the way one hundred percent ready and we have to slime up the couch before--"

“We can just do a Saturday Fright Fiesta, instead."

_"That's not even alliterated!_ We'd have to come up with a whole new name and theme and I already got everything ready for Beetle nachos, not to mention--"

_**"BJ,"**_ Lydia squared her shoulders and turned to face her desperate, drowning best friend. She gave him a little shake, smiling wryly, “Get a grip. It's only  _ one _ date. It's not like I’m getting married.”

“AAAGK! BLARGH! WHAT?!” Betty slammed a fist on the car's hood, clutching desperately at her chest. “Why would’ja even suggest something as disgustin' as that? I’m gonna hurl! I... I feel faint. Is that you, MA? I see the light! _~Swing looow sweet chariot--_ ”

Betty collapsed to the asphalt, and Lydia grimaced as her skirt rode up her hairy thighs. "Oh, Jeez, Beej. You've gotta work on your Betty transformations..." She modestly nudged Betty's legs closed with her foot.

"Can you blame me? I was too distraught to remember panties."

“Well. I really appreciate the vote of confidence." Lydia huffed, tugging her keys out of her bag and unlocking her little black v.w. bug, "what would I ever do without your support and encouragement?"

She shut the driver's side door and gripped her wheel. Beetlejuice climbed up her door to lean into her open window.

"I can’t believe this! Yer really serious?"

Lydia flicked her shades open, and deposited them over the shadowed gloom in her black lined eyes. _Deadly so_ , it seemed.

“I’m telling you, kid, this is big bad news. _ Boys _ like that only got one thing on their minds."

" _ You're _ a boy."

“ _ Moi _ !?” Beetlejuice guffawed loudly as if stricken and implored to an invisible audience to ‘ _ get a load of this’ _ , before returning to his crouched position at her window, "S'cuse me, first of all, **young lady,** I am a genuine MAN’S man,"

A girl who had been entering the car next to them audibly guffawed as if stricken. Betty shot a toothy grin her direction and the girl frantically entered her car and tore out of her parking spot. Lydia peaked a brow, looking Betty over.

“Uh huh. Okay, Man’s man.”

"Bet your ass. So I know EXACTLY what men think on the daily, especially around girls like--"

"Girls like….?"

His motormouth slammed into solid concrete at top speed, jaw clamping shut to avoid _that_ baited hook. They both waited for the other to elaborate before Beetlejuice itched behind his ear and cleared his throat of a mucus wad.

"Around… Around girls that. Yknow. Girls their age! Men in the abstract and girls their age in the abstract. That’s what I meant."

“Mhm....”

Lydia let it go, as she always did. But she felt a familiar dust of warmth in her chest and busied herself with her seat belt to keep him from noticing the change in her. Slips of the tongue and near-misses between the two of them such as that had been occurring more and more recently...

"Mhm,” he returned her sassy tone, “and Second of all,  _ Missy, _ i’ve been on plenty o’ dates. Trust me. They’re a drag an’ a half. So how about you ditch this loser and we get started on our marathon prep huh whaddaya say?”

"Sorry," Lydia shrugged, haughty. “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

“Let’s flip a coin. Draw straws. Play a game of red car blue car--"

“Bye, BJ,” Lydia started her car. “Smell you later. I need to go get ready.”

“BABES!”

Lydia squealed out of the lot, leaving Bettyjuice in the dust. After a moment, Lydia pulled back in beside him and leaned her head out the window. She pointed a black painted nail at him. 

“ _Don’t do anything._ ”

“I wasn’t--”

“ **Look at me** , Beej.” Lydia tipped her shades, drilling holes into his head with her very gaze. The ghoul swallowed hard. “No sudden sicknesses, no sending anyone to the Neitherworld, no gila monster shoes that come to life and try to eat their wearer,” Beetlejuice grinned wickedly at the memory. “No. Funny. Business. I mean it. I'll see you at home.”

With that, she was gone. 

“... stubborn kid.” He couldn’t shake the little surge of pride. He really had rubbed off on her. 

Suddenly void of his weekly evening plans, Beetlejuice kicked at a rock and trudged off towards whatever next crossed his wicked path. Everyone needed hobbies, for just such occasions. 

“Dumb kid, more like. What the hell happened? When did Lyds get interested in… well, bein’ **_Interested?”_** Betty Juice could be seen, if anyone in Peaceful Pines had an eye for the unusual or half a brain, passing behind a light pole and emerging on the other side as Mr. Beetleman, the handy dandy man. He ran back through his mind how Lydia, the very creator of the cooties theory, had come to the shocking realization that boys exist.  _ It never used to be a problem, _ he groused internally. Sure, she’d ogle Neitherworld idols here and there. A monster man monthly calendar for Christmas one year had turned her round cheeks cherry red and sent her scrambling out of the Roadhouse living room fast as a bolt.

Beetlejuice had laughed. Well, he certainly wasn’t laughing now. A human boy, clean cut and fleshy. Not a tentacle in sight. Where had he gone wrong?

“Maybe if I just gave him a  _ little  _ case of the pox… just a mild fever? Maybe if all his hair fell out… or his teeth.”

No, surely she’d catch on if anything wicked were to befall her little  _ lover boy _ . She’d grown so much sharper, his little partner in grime, with her age. Lydia was rounding the corner on eighteen soon and Beetlejuice could hardly keep track of the time or his rapidly fleeting ability to pull the wool over her eyes. She was all but a woman now and her wit had sharpened considerably. While he’d once been able to slip the occasional scheme or too-nasty prank past her morally upright nose, now she could read even the slightest quirk of his V shaped brow. Or a wiley look in his eye that always preceded danger. 

She knew him too well, his gloomy little graveyard gal. But it seemed he was still trying to wrap his head around her. After all, his Lyds was no kid anymore. 

Beetlejuice took a hard drag off his cigarette, scarcely bothering to exhale the smoke. So he couldn’t get away with his normal antics against the boy. He would have to get terribly, horribly, fiendishly creative. 

Boy, did he love a good challenge. As he stewed on the machinations of his latest scheme, he caught sight of two blondes headed for a little pink convertible. Claire and the boy stood, looking around and speaking to each other in a hush. Mr. Beetleman whistled and slipped as close as he could without detection. He tugged a filthy rag from his pocket and began griming up the windshield of a nearby car to eavesdrop.

“I can’t believe I even have to take her to dinner. You’d better be paying, Brewster.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Claire slapped a twenty into his hand and sneered. “You better make this worth my while.”

“You bet, baby. What movie do you want to see?” Lucas tried to lean on Claire’s little car. He received a slap to the hand the minute he connected and recoiled. "Ow!"

“Um, like, hold your horses. We’ll discuss AFTER you pull this off for me. I’m not, like, _stupid._ ”

Mr. Beetleman coughed something under his breath, but the two conniving teens didn’t seem to notice his presence. 

“Now, repeat it to me again.”

“Claire we’ve been over it five times already! I pick her up at six, we go to dinner, pretend like I’m having a good time with the freakshow, I drive her towards the theater, but on the way…”

“Then you, like, dump that little wierdo on the covered bridge! I’ll meet you at the theater. She’ll have to walk home in the cold in whatever freak outfit she picks. That’ll show her for that stunt she pulled today.”

“Might spend a little extra time with her.” Lucas tugged a little camera from his jacket pocket and took a snap shot of Claire. He waved it at her, smiling. “I’ve been meaning to add a gothy chick to my collection for a while now.”

Beetlejuice cocked an eyebrow. What was he on about? Collection? What was with the camera?

_ Nothing good,  _ he feared.  _ Nothing Lyds should be wrapped up in... _

Claire laughed, but snapped at Lucas the moment he smiled.. “Just don’t, like, screw this up. I do have OTHER options on a Friday night, you know. Last thing I need is Lydia Deetz growing a spine and snitching on us.”

“Right… Say, you don’t think she’s gonna bring along any of her b….b-b-b-b….bu…”

“Like, spit it out! Bugs?” Claire grinned wickedly. “Why, Luke. Scared?”

“No! Im  **_not scared._ ** Nothing scares me, baby.”

Beetlejuice’s hand had long ago stopped moving on the windshield. This putrid little pus-bag was asking for it and the temptation made the red ends of his gnarled fingers itch and ache with confined power. Oh, this little creep deserved the worst…. He should… he could… What was one less teenage boy in a small, quiet town? Tragic accidents happened even in the most unlikely places, afterall.

A tiny Lydia popped up on his shoulder, wagging a finger at him.

“What!?” Beetlejuice scowled, ducking down behind the car to speak frantically to tiny Lydia, “But what am I supposed to do?! ”

Shoulder Lydia looked at her watch and threw her hands up in the air, waving frantically. Beetlejuice checked his watch and gawked at the time. “Five fifteen!?” Beetlejuice wheezed, “But she’s meeting him at six!”

Lydia pointed down the road before vanishing in a little cloud.

“I’ve gotta warn Babes. I just hope she’ll listen.”


	2. Chapter 2

“But I don’t understand, Lydia!” Delia cried, practically chasing her step-daughter as she flitted around her room. “A date?”

“For the third time, mother, yes.” The goth dabbed at the corner of her eye makeup to smudge it out. At this point, the adjustments to her outfit were mainly born of a desire to ignore the anxiety her parents were brewing within her with their endless needling.

“But with who?”

“With what?” Charles piped up from the hall, still buried in his book and clearly far less bothered by the whole situation than Delia.

“Charles!” Delia gasped, setting the doughy man with a glare, “Not that i’m not thrilled. I think it’s wonderful, of course! But Lydia, dear. It’s just such a shock. I thought you said dating wasn't for you when we tried to send you out with the Richardson's son.”

Lydia brushed out her hair again, holding the twist tie between her teeth as she replied,

“It’s a shock to me too, mother. But like you always say: spontaneity is the spice of life. Right?”

“Very true,” Lydia could feel her step mother beaming with pride, her own parroted advice clearly fluffing her feathers, “but who is he? Do we know this boy?”

“He’s from Hargrave Academy. I met him today, actually. At my presentation...” It hadn’t escaped her notice that neither of her parents had asked how her scholarship opportunity had gone, but were nosily poking and prodding her about the fact she’d merely said she ‘had plans’ tonight, and no. Her plans weren’t with Betty, Bertha or Prudence.

A mistake, she now realized.

"Now, Delia. I'm sure he's just fine if he's from Hargrave Academy." Charles tried, looking up from his book with a calm smile. "What's his last name? We might know his family."

"I uh..." Lydia winced, "I actually didn't catch it."

Lydia could feel the worried gaze her parents were silently exchanging. Adjusting her dress -- an off-shoulder red piece with a tattered hem, tied at the waist and spider web leggings beneath -- she turned to them with the warmest, most reassuring smile she could muster.

“It’s really not a big deal. He really seems like a gentleman,” she placated. “It’s just dinner and a movie. I’ll be back before midnight. I’m even driving myself.”

“At least let your father have a talk with you--… Charles? Charles!”

Charles had already escaped down the hall, silently, having sensed he was once again going to be recruited for a command of ‘talk to your daughter.’

“I don’t need that, mother. I’m… uh… educated.” Lydia cleared her throat. “And it’s only a first date. So please don’t worry?”

Delia looked her up and down, inspecting her, before _tsking_ lightly and stepping forward. "At least let me..." Before Lydia could protest, she’d licked her thumb and rubbed away some smudge of makeup on her cheek. Lydia’s grimace melted when her mother spun her towards the mirror, fussing with strands of black hair. "Must you always wear this smudgy, dark muck around your eyes? They're so gorgeous without it."

"I like my eyes this way, mother."

“Oh… When did you get so grown up?” the aging artist asked tearily, resting her chin on Lydia’s shoulder. Delia was nosy, nitpicky, occasionally over-bearing, chatty, and driven entirely by her emotional outbursts and bouts of inspiration. “My sweet girl.”

And though they bickered, the gloomy goth couldn’t imagine life without the only manic, red-headed mother she’d ever known. Lydia squeezed her mom’s hand and smiled.

“Okay,” she sighed, stepping away. “Now I really have to finish getting ready.”

“But do you need more help with your hair? _Oh!_ You know, I have this necklace and earring set that would just--”

“I’ll tell you all about it later, mother.” 

Lydia shut her door as gently as she could and heaved a massive sigh of relief. Alone, for a moment. She’d already had to tear herself tooth and nail away from the interrogation phone call with Bertha and Prudence. _Are the legends true?_ As though it were some paranormal anomaly that Lydia Deetz might ever be asked out on a date. With a boy. A real, living boy.

Lydia was far from a prideful person, but the gift of self reflection afforded her the clarity to take some level of offense to their surprise. She wasn’t some heartless creature from the deep. In fact, she’d found, creatures from the deep were usually very amiable. 

She looked herself over in the mirror, scrutinizing her makeup and feeling a pang of guilt for doing so. It wasn’t as though she cared what his boy thought of her. Or perhaps she did. Shouldn’t she? 

Wasn’t that a normal way to feel before your first date? 

“You’re being as ridiculous as they are, Lydia Deetz.” Lydia scolded her reflection in the rounded glass of her boudoir. She gently tugged little selective strands down from her meticulous up-do, “You have every right to feel however you happen to feel about it. Regardless of what your parents say. Or Bertha and Prudence. Or Claire. Or you or even Bee--” 

“BABES!”

Served her right to speak of the devil.

Beetlejuice all but flopped through her mirror, sending the contents of her desk onto the floor in his wake.

“Oops.” Lydia paid him little heed and stood, stepping delicately over the dead body on her floor towards her bed. “Kid, we’ve really gotta talk.”

“Not now, Beetlejuice.”

“But this is really important!" He scrambled up to his boots, practically panting, "Listen, back at the school, I--”

“Yeah! Yknow what, Beej? It _is_ really important.” Lydia rounded and cut him off. “At least it feels important, or it’s supposed to be important when you’re seventeen and have never been on a date before, and that’s good enough.”

“Uh…” Beetlejuice fumbled, clearly having stepped on a toe somewhere back there. He hadn’t a clue when, however, and felt it best to clam up. "Huh?"

“And you know what? I’m allowed to be excited! Or a little nervous or… oh…” She sat down on her bed, looking at her feet. “Completely nauseous. But that’s okay! That’s _normal._ I am capable of that, you know. If you hadn’t noticed...”

Beetlejuice drifted quietly to sit at her side on the bed, hands clasped awkwardly between his knees. Though limited in experience, the ghoul had learned a few tricks of the best-friendship trade. One of which being, sometimes, it was better to just listen instead of running his motor mouth. 

As urgent as his message was, Lydia's wellbeing in the moment always took precedent. 

“… Who ever said yer not?”

“I don’t know. Myself maybe? My parents? You? Everyone… just everyone. Or at least, that’s what it feels like.”

Lydia pulled her knees up onto the bed, hugging them tightly. 

“It just seems like it’s this big deal to everyone, that I might act and feel the same way as every other girl on the planet sometimes. I know it shouldn’t matter so much and I know it’s really silly to get worked up over one stupid date with some boy. I know, It’s never been something I thought about or wanted to happen, really...”

“But?”

“But now it’s happened and i’m freaking out,” Lydia shook her head, resting her chin on the tops of her spider-web clad knees, “Everyone seems to think i'm too much of a weirdo to even go on a date."

"But you are a weirdo. It's one of yer best qualities."

"I know, _I know._ But it’s still a little hurtful, I guess, that nobody believes in me. I’ve never thought about how this all might go for someone like me before.”

“Someone like you?” Beetlejuice’s brow furrowed, turning to face the suddenly sullen girl. “What are you talkin’ about, Lyds?" the ghoul swallowed hard, digging deep for anything he could compare to sincerity. “Of course I believe in you.”

“Well you didn’t act like it at the school,” Lydia did not look his way. She only stared at the carpet, picking anxiously at the fringe of her sleeve. “I don’t blame you, though… I _know_ why everyone’s so surprised.”

“I ** _ain't_** surprised you got a date, Lyds!" he blurted and immediately regretted the fire behind it when her eyes slid over to him, wide with shock. "That's not it."

"Then what?"

"I'm just worried about'cha, is all..." he scrubbed his arm, searching the room for something to look at besides her, "Just ‘cause you’re ooky spooky, deadly vu, an honorary citizen of the Neitherworld, strange and unusual, ghoulish before the grave doesn't mean you're not gonna be excited about normal teenage girl bullshit for once."

She sniffed wetly, wiping quickly at her face and turning to face him fully. 

“Look, if this really means so much to ya, then you’ll knock it out of the park.” the words crawled from his lips, leaving his stomach a churning whirlpool in their saccharine wake. Soft, sweet, disgusting. “‘Cause you’re great at everything you do. Any snotty brat would be lucky to take you out...” 

_Not even just snotty brats._

A smile threatened the corners of her lips. “You really, really believe that?”

“Babes, trust me. You’d knock anyone dead. I would know.”

Lydia sat up a bit taller, arms uncrossing as she looked over to gauge the ghost’s sincerity. She found a pang of dismay, but no signs of deception. She felt a tug and looked to find one of his hands balled tightly into her comforter.

“Beej?”

“Oh! Right... heh...” he grasped his chest, unconvincingly dropping to his knees on the carpet to feign death, clasping a lily in one hand and ‘dying’ with a gasp. 

His powers had not accompanied his pun with any sort of visual manifestation. 

“What do you mean, _you would know?_ ”

The daisy-pushed Beetlejuice cracked an eye open. “...huh?”

“You meant... because you’re dead? Or...”

There it was _again._ A string of tension between them she didn’t dare to pluck too hard.

Whether Beetlejuice meant his colloquialisms literally or not, his powers often overtook any rational, conscious thoughts he had and expressed themselves without regard for his meaning. So perhaps it was just that. Beetlejuice would know she could knock anyone dead, because he himself was dead. Plain, simple, literal.

But maybe, just maybe, he’d meant it quite UNliterally. Perhaps Beetlejuice had meant it the way she’d heard it expressed by sleazy, flirtatious, charismatic men in their monochromatic suits about the dolled up, vintage objects of their affection. 

The objects of their desire. _‘Dames’_ who were, in their words, to die for. Women who could ‘knock them dead.’

**_Babes..._ **

But what would that mean, if that’s what he'd meant?

“Right! Of course...” Beetlejuice broke her from her thoughts, looking up from the carpet, concerned. “Listen, about your date... I don't think--”

Lydia’s alarm clock rang, signaling her five minute warning to six o’ clock. 

“I’m late!” she gasped, wrestling her shoes on and snatching up her purse.

“Babes, hold on,” he struggled to his feet and kicked into the air. “He's not--”

“Please, B, I really have to go.” Lydia sniffed, no small amount of defeat in her tone. “Don’t worry about me.”

Better to break that string of tension once again than find what might be on the other side. 

Beetlejuice watched, frozen. Helpless. What could he do? What should he do? After all she’d confided in him, how could he further ruin the rocky start of her eventually doomed evening? Which was crueler? Letting her feel all that hurt and embarrassment now and possibly send him away where he couldn't help? Or letting her walk into potential danger with some no good, rotten punk, and waiting around to pick up the pieces?

“Wait!” Beetlejuice reached for her, his red tipped fingers curling back when she turned her gaze to him expectantly. “You can’t go, you just can't!”

She opened her mouth to reply, clearly at her wit’s end with the debate. Rather than take any of her scorn, the coward swallowed the vile, bitter truth back down.

_This is wrong._

“You can’t go because..." he watched her brows turn up, felt the horrible sting his words might inflict. "Because you... you need this!"

He whirled his wrist, her striped spider brooch appearing between his fingers like a chosen card. The relieved and warm smile that spread over her face did little to unwind the coil in his chest, threatening to spring the horrible news on his poor, unsuspecting best friend.

He stooped down to pin it on, tried his damndest to conceal the slight tremor of his hands and the twist of anguish on his face, and straightened back up.

“There,” he sniffed. “That’s… you look..." he swung his fist, tentatively bumping her shoulder, "Just perfect.”

Lydia slammed into him, digging her arms underneath his own to squeeze tightly around his middle. He couldn’t bring himself to lower his arms and hug her back.

_Traitor. Coward. Some best friend you are._

“Thank you. Thank you, Beej.” she whispered, face pressed against his hollow chest. “What would I ever do without you?”

Beetlejuice held back a woeful groan, sliding a hand down his face. This was torture. 

“Well, yknow..." He snorted, but couldn't elaborate. He moved her stiffly to arm’s length and spun her ‘round with a gentle pat on her back. “Now get going! You don’t wanna be late.” The ghoul grit out each word, scarcely hiding the strain in his voice. 

With a smile and a renewed spring to her step, Lydia darted down the hall and out of the house. He heard the porch door slam shut, watched her cross the yard. Beetlejuice loomed glumly in the window, watching as her little car zipped out of the drive and down towards Peaceful Pines proper. He waved, silently, and returned his hand to his side.

After a long, still moment, the poltergeist had finally held it back for too long. He burst into a shrieking, spinning vortex. Papers, sheets, various childhood toys launched around the room. Screeching to a halt on her carpet and breathing hard, Beetlejuice gripped at his hair.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" He shouted, tugging at the blonde, matted mess on his head. "Stupid stupid stupid! Where the hell did yer balls go, huh?! EXCUSE ME!" He stomped one booted foot, motioning wide to the room. "I COULD USE A LITTLE FUCKIN' HELP HERE!"

Little Lydia appeared on his shoulder again and scoffed, tapping her little foot. 

“Christ almighty, woman! Can't you see i'm havin' a breakdown here?! Aren't you supposed to be my _guide_ or something?” Beetlejuice snapped, drawn out of his crazed outburst by the tiny manifestation of his guilt. It was so much easier to negotiate with his conscience when it was just he, himself and his worse self. At some point, his moral compass had found a more effective face to wear. “Where the hell were ya one minute ago!? Make up your mind already! First you want me to heel, but now I’m supposed to fetch? It’s a little fuckin' late now!”

Little Lydia didn't look amused. She cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms impatiently. _I'm waiting._

“What? WHAT?! I’M supposed to be the morally ambiguous one around here! Where's your great advice now, huh? OR am I s'posed to figure this afterlife-lesson shit out by myself?" He shouted. Shoulder Lydia threw her hands up, _i'm not paid enough for this_ , and retreated back into his shoulder stripes. "Fine! Have it your way! I'll just sit here and do nothin'. Let HER get a life lesson, for once. I'll hold the tissue box all night, like a good best friend. Not my fault she got herself into this mess...” Beetlejuice tried, crossing his arms in a huff.

He could only tolerate roughly three seconds of thinking of Lydia coming home tonight, sobbing her eyes out. The weeks of doom and gloom afterwards. The skipping of movie night for the foreseeable future...

“... What the hell. Yes it is. What is it she’s always saying?”

Beetlejuice turned into Lydia to berate himself.

_“Best friends don’t lie to each other. What do you mean girls like me? What do you mean I knock you dead? What do you mean I look great tonig--”_

He flashed back to himself as internal-Lydia started down _that road._ The way she so often did, when he thought about her nowadays.

“That shit's easy for her to say! She didn't have to see the look on her face when I ripped her heart in two and stomped on it!" Beetlejuice shook the sad image away. For once, the thought of someone's face twisting up in misery and defeat didn't give him butterflies. Not Lyds. 

"Just ain't fair." he groused, circling her ceiling fan as he stewed. "No reason Lyds couldn't have a good date night. If it weren't for that scummy, conniving, pimply, hormonal, sweaty little _shitlord_ \--”

Beetlejuice turned and caught sight of himself in the mirror. There wasn't time to reflect on the severity of his next thought or the ramifications of openly allowing himself to have it without finding some way to sledgehammer it back to the base of his rotted brain, the way he usually did.

_If only it were me, instead... I could show her a good time._

The old wheels in his head spun and spun, gears clicking together as an idea formed. Lydia only expected to be on a date with this Lucas boy without interference from Beetlejuice. But, really, what could Lydia possibly know of this boy she just met? Someone whose baseline personality, quirks, motivations, intentions, wants, and desires Lydia couldn’t possibly predict. 

And, certainly, he could keep control of some idiot teenager for one night. Right? He'd never done anything like that for an extended period of time, but who was to say whether she’d notice if Lucas weren’t necessarily acting like _himself_ for just one night? As long as he could get her through the date and home, he'd be home free. He could always deal with him later, if he became a recurring problem.

It was a long shot, but he could make it work. He had to make it right. After all, what else were best friends for? 

"Hang on, kid!" Beetlejuice summoned up his focus and relocated. He appeared as the striped brooch on Lydia's dress front and steeled himself for the job at hand. Hell or high water, tonight wouldn't disappoint Lydia Deetz even for a moment. 

Whether Pretty Boy survived the perfect first date or not was yet to be seen. 


End file.
